


Mercy

by LunarMaerya



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dominant/Submissive, Because really what else did he learn as a shimada, Dom/sub, M/M, Rating may change to explicit, Spy!Hanzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarMaerya/pseuds/LunarMaerya
Summary: 38 years old, 5’ 8’’ in height, former assassin-heir to the Shimada underground empire - and Dominant. This is what Jesse McCree knows about Hanzo Shimada before they meet at Overwatch HQ.Or what he thinks he knows - the man in question is proving full of surprises. Lord have mercy on Jesse McCree.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	1. The Other Shimada

**Author's Note:**

> This story falls under "alternate reality - dom/sub." This means in this world all the characters are characterized as either having a "dominant" or "submissive" nature. I'm taking a spin on this trope however - I can't in good consciousness depict this characteristic as just some inborn biological urge that defines who a person is, because that's just not how biology and society works. Think of being a dom/sub in this AU as being born with a certain capability, which for each individual is expressed in individually and culturally meaningful ways.

Jesse McCree has never been the patient sort.

Sure, as a gunslinger, timing is everything, and sometimes it took a long wait before that special moment came. But the world viewed down the barrel of a gun had a certain way of passing by, of minutes compressing to seconds, all up until that split second where everything shattered and time ran fast and the thrill set in – But lounging around, aimless, waiting on someone else’s time? It leaves an irritable buzz in his limbs, anxious to be wiped away.

The responsible party, however, seems to have arrived at last.

A small aircraft has landed, dropping slowly through an opening in the roof of the cavernous room where Jesse has been oh-so-patiently waiting. The carrier’s cargo has leaped gracefully from a passenger door, and now strides towards Jesse from opposites ends of the hangar. The figure’s strides are taken in even measures, a smooth economy of motion any dancer would envy. A shrewd and watchful gaze, and a hand tight upon a bow, betray him however; his is a different kind of grace.

 _The assassin_ , thinks Jesse with a silent whistle, _and as beautiful as he is deadly_.

Everyone at overwatch HQ is a unique case: none of them are run of the mill soldiers, but singular individuals with highly developed, unique skill sets, each equal to a small army. All the same, Jesse wonders if this newcomer has something special, something more, that might make him worthy of careful watching and caution. Although, Jesse has also always had a keen eye for beauty, as his ma would’ve put it.

Jesse had better be careful with the looks he sends this one, however. It was at Winston’s request that had been loitering in the hangar of Overwatch’s HQ, waiting for the arrival of none other than Hanzo Shimada.

He quickly reviews what he knows of the other man: brother to Genji Shimada (complicated relationship there). Former assassin and heir trained to run the Shimada clan’s criminal empire. Now the occasional independent bow-for-hire amidst his years spent steadfastly dismantling his former clan’s empire. A man in search of some form of redemption or reckoning with his past, much like a past version of Jesse himself. 38 years old, 5’ 8’’ in height, and Dominant.

Jesse caught eyes with Hanzo, finding nothing but steel. _Oh yes, dominant indeed_ , he thinks.

“Howdy,” he drawls, as the other man draws near, “Mr. Shimada, I take it?” Jesse takes pains to neither loom nor shirk away from the other. He wants to avoid offense but not give ground. Winston has hopes for this former assassin, and Jesse is friends with Genji anyhow, who he knows hopes for greater reconciliation with his wayward brother. As a dom himself, Jesse is being careful to avoid challenge until he has a better sense of this other Shimada’s character, and if he’s the type to play rough with other doms just for the feeling of an upper hand. Already, he seems little like his cheerful younger sibling, another dom.

“Yes, I am Hanzo Shimada. I take it you are Mr. Jesse McCree?” Despite Hanzo’s sharp gaze, his tone is mildly polite. He’s come to stop a respectful distance from McCree, stance alert but casual. The bow had disappeared from view, collapsed and stored in some kind of holster bound at Hanzo’s back, under the baggage slung about his shoulders. Jesse has no doubt it could reappear in under a second if the former assassin wanted.

Jesse grins, just a little thrilled at the notion.

“The one and only! Winston knows a touch of good ‘ol southern hospitality is exactly the way to greet a newcomer. I’m to show you to your rooms, get you settled, and tour you around our fine establishment. How was your flight in?”

Jesse guesses that the elder Shimada likely has no interest in small talk. To Jesse’s best knowledge, his decision to inhabit Overwatch HQ was tenuous at best, bound only by the demands of his recently rediscovered younger brother. It’s unclear yet what’s to come from his stay, or what either Genji or Hanzo expect from their furthered reunion. Jesse can’t help but want to prod a little to gain his own opinions of the other Shimada.

“Adequate,” replies Hanzo, “The route was clear and swift.” Politeness seems to be Hanzo’s favored method of distancing.

“That’s our Tracer for you,” comments Jesse.

“’Tracer’?” questions Hanzo turning over the odd name. He follows Jesse through a set of doors into the main hallway off the hangar.

“Lena, really, but she’s got a neat set of skills to go with the nickname.” He gives an abbreviated account of her ability. “Winston calls it ‘chronal acceleration.’”

Hanzo hums, obviously filing the information away. He continues to ask casual questions about Overwatch’s occupants, learning little details about each of them: a state-of-the-art mech operated by a former professional gamer, the celebrity musician with tech was stolen from the Vishkar corporation, and intriguingly, an omnic monk fresh from the Himalayan mountains. Much of this information Hanzo could and has gleaned from underground sources or from news coverage, but a first-hand account helped flesh out bits and pieces unavailable elsewhere. And observing Jesse’s demeanor, this dear friend of Genji’s, is... intriguing. Trust Genji to befriend a “cowboy.”

“And this Winston,” Hanzo asks eventually, “is he truly…” A polite turn of phrase eludes him.

“A scientist in ape form? Sure is. But, word of advice, don’t pay too much attention to his looks when you meet him, if you want to get off on the right foot.”

Jesse has led him down a series of hallways, drawing near a stretch of matched doorways each with their own letter and number designation displayed.

Hanzo nods, serious. “Thank you for your advice, I will remember it.”

“Sure thing. We’ve all got our sore spots, after all, don’t we?”

They’ve stopped at one of the doors. Jesse’s words hang in the air, a gentle but clear prod. How will the elder Shimada handle his proximity to Genji, and a whole host of folks who know their history?

Unflinchingly, apparently.

“Indeed, Mr. McCree, we all have our pasts. Some less savory than others.” He gives a pointed look at Jesse’s bioprosthetic arm and his gun, Peacekeeper, at Jesse’s hip as always. “However, it would be remiss of me as a guest to pry in such matters of my hosts. I am confident my time here will pass without remark.”

_I have no intention of sharing my past with you or being involved with this team. Leave me alone._

The dominance is high in his gaze, drawing clear territorial marks around anything and everything Shimada.

 _Tough shit_ , thinks Jesse, drawing just a little on his own dominance.

“Too late for that,” he says aloud, “I’ve plenty remarks to make on your appearance – your presence – here already.” He grins lopsidedly, gaze briefly scanning the Shimada’s form. Hanzo doesn’t not react outwardly – much. A slight tightening of his jaw is all that betrays his annoyance.

When Jesse then points out that they’re standing in front of Hanzo’s assigned room, he’s unsurprised to be quickly dismissed, the door shut quite firmly in his face.

He calls out from the hallway, “Don’t worry, Mr. Shimada! I’ll collect you when dinner time comes around – and my room’s right across from yours!”

He can’t see it, but he can already avidly imagine Hanzo’s glare. He looks forward to seeing it in person soon enough.

He leaves the area whistling joyfully to himself.

***  
Hanzo is quick to assess his accommodations. He occupies a small dorm style room largely constructed from concrete, no larger than 100 square meters, and which includes a bed, wardrobe, desk, and cramped en suite. It is otherwise sparse, which suits Hanzo perfectly. He makes quick work of examining each piece of furniture, as well as the rooms lighting and other fixtures. Finding no immediate evidence of surveillance equipment, he begins unpacking into the room.

He has brought a small pack and large duffle bag with him; one contains clothing and other such items, while the other holds his gear. Foolishly, Overwatch had not searched his belongings, and the collection now spread over his bed includes some of his tools of the trade. There are surveillance pieces including a bug of his own, which he installs in the room’s overhead lighting fixture, as well as a nondescript sensor that attached at the base of the dorm’s door will now alert him when the door is opened. A laptop is contained inside of a small briefcase which does not open without appropriate biometric signatures and is made out of some of the toughest materials money can buy, would shock anyone other than Hanzo when touching it, and which he also locks to the desk with a flexible length of some other strong material. He similarly stores a larger but otherwise identical briefcase inside of the wardrobe; in it is contained one of his bows, some other small weaponry and technology Hanzo uses in the field, and related components or tools. It is not much from his total hoard of gear, but rather what he considers the base necessities to have on him at all times.

He makes even quicker work of his clothes: they are merely copies of the same few pieces, only varying in their weight and appropriateness for different weather. Once dealt with, and wearing his lightest clothing, he takes a pillow from the bed and settles in a cross-legged position on the floor. It is his habit during downtime and at the end of the day to meditate, while also taking stock of the day’s events.

As the only Overwatch member he has interacted with yet, this thoughts turn immediately to Jesse McCree. Hanzo had done as thorough of research as possible on the former Overwatch organization before arriving at this base. Genji has revealed little about those joining the newly reformed organization but had at least told Hanzo the number of their current group and had provided a few names of those he considered friends. His hope, he had said, was that Hanzo may lend assistance to the newly re-made organization and, perhaps, to find a place there with them.

_We need you, brother. Don’t you see? You have much to still give to the world._

Jesse McCree had been mentioned as a close friend of Genji’s, but Hanzo’s research, and even a few soft inquiries among his contacts, had turned up very little about him. This told Hanzo as much as it didn’t; despite his easy going and even foolish demeanor, the other man must have a dark history, or it would not be so hidden. Overwatch’s image didn’t allude to much involvement in the world to which Hanzo was accustomed, but Hanzo suspected this was not because such involvement didn’t exist. But what did that say about his first impression of the sharpshooter? The hat and other clothing, his walk and general demeanor, his way of speaking… It seemed unlikely, on the one hand, that this would serve completely as a cover, ostentatious as such a persona was. However, a foolish personality did not mean he could not possess certain skills, but Hanzo would guess they were not necessarily related to great subterfuge.

More likely, the man was a talented killer, the sort that was dropped into the field locked onto a target and with but one goal, no real subtlety needed.

Hanzo would also guess that the other man was a dominant. The “cowboy’s” cavalier attitude was well in line with how, in Hanzo’s experience, many dominants chose to express themselves: loudly and arrogantly. That particular ability to tap into dominant head space too, where one’s focus narrowed infinitely until it saw only what was needed, with confidence and clarity, could be well suited to marksmanship. Not that subspace didn’t have its own potential – as Hanzo would know. Because although not a single living soul knows it, for all of his near four decades of life Hanzo Shimada has lived and breathed as a “submissive.” Hanzo had found the particular experience of the mind unique to a submissive, subspace, to actually be quite useful in his underworld profession. Not that his father had ever seen its usefulness or allowed Hanzo to be read by others as submissive. Hanzo knew well how a stereotypical dominant acted, having put on elements of such a front since he was a child.

Yet for all that he seemed a typical dominant, there was something else to Jesse McCree… For as foolish as Hanzo found his appearance, there was also something very genuine, authentic, warm, in the other man, so much so that even a total stranger could feel it in such a short interaction.

Many would underestimate such a quality, but Hanzo, who had not come prepared to make friends, despite Genji’s hopes, finds himself thinking that Jesse McCree may be very dangerous indeed – and not for his skills with a gun.


	2. In over your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo gets his lay of the land. Jesse can't look away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience! This chapter just kept growing. Hope you enjoy.

He wasn’t sure who decided to seek out who first, but not ten minutes after depositing the older Shimada Jesse finds himself knocking elbows with the younger. Literally, as no amount of fancy tech upgrades seems to ever improve Genji’s situational awareness when it came to friends. Boundaries? Pfft.

But Jesse has always taken Genji in stride. Even Genji’s much moodier past self, who had tended to cycle as rapidly through tempers as Winston does through peanut butter. Both had left Overwatch in less than desirable circumstances and hadn’t maintained ties in the interim years, but the recall has allowed them another chance at friendship, and both are grateful.

This doesn’t stop Jesse from grinning slyly at Genji’s antsy behavior

“My, my, what ever has got you all worked up?” He asks, feigning ignorance.

Bereft as he was of facial expression, Genji has become master of the dramatic sigh. But he still falls in step with Jesse as he rounds the corner heading for one the base’s few rec rooms.

“Jesse,” he needles, “do not play coy. How was my brother’s reception? How does he seem to you? Did you two get along?”

“Hm,” Jesse drags out, “hard to say considering he _just_ got here. He’s a polite one though, isn’t he? Hardly seemed to want to talk - unless it was to learn about Overwatch. Said nothin’ about himself. Guess that means he’s at least interested in what we’ve got going on here, though,” Jesse muses.

Something about Genji’s shiftiness as they continue waking seems worrisome. Jesse raises a brow.

“Is… that not a good thing?”

“Truthfully,” confesses Genji, “I have much to learn about my brother’s motivations these days. I know he does not mean anyone here harm,” he rushes to add. “But beyond that? I do not know if he approves of Overwatch, and what that will mean for his stay. Did he give any indications of how he was feeling thus far?”

“Uh, well, he seemed pretty set on not being too buddy-buddy. And I might have – poked a bit?”

“’Poked,’” Genji repeats, voice utterly flat. “Do explain.”

“Well,” Jesse deflects, flustered, “what aren’t you asking the man himself how he feels? You know I’m no good at- at- this spy shit!”

They’ve reached the rec room Jesse was headed towards. It’s not much more than an oversized closet with a few cushy armchairs and some kitchen appliances, but Jesse sometimes prefers it over the larger entertainment room the younger members favor.

Genji gravitates to the appliances, unearths a hidden stash of tea, and begins fixing Jesse a cup. Genji used to find making tea very calming, before. Since meeting Zenyatta he’s taken it up again, even if he can’t drink it himself. 

“I just wanted to get a sense of him,” Jesse confesses. “He’s a dom, right? He got awfully territorial when I tried to pry.” As territorial as one got when acting so goddamn polite, anyway.

Genji sighs. “Yes, in this way he seems to have taken after our father quite well. Hanzo was never one to be anything other than in control, although I would give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he was never so ruthless as our father, and never given to needless displays or to cruelty.”

Handing over a cup and taking a seat, Genji sighs softly, but continues. “I know that our relationship seems complicated now, for all the obvious reasons. But truthfully, we have always had difficulty communicating. There has always been something in the way… Our father. Duty. The responsibilities of being heir. Yes, we used to always look out for each other, and there were many times that each other was all we had. But there were also always things he would not speak about with me, and he only got more distant over time.” Genji lapses into contemplative silence.

“But things aren’t like that anymore. With your, um, your family I mean.” Jesse winces at his own lack of tack. “But what I mean is, neither of you have these responsibilities anymore, or other people in between you. And I know you were angry for a long time, but something changed right? You’ve both changed. Sure, it’s hard to know where things stand, but what’s there to stop you from finding out? Other than excuses, that is,” Jesse adds a little pointedly. He hadn’t pushed the issue at the time, but he’d wondered why it had been him being sent to great Hanzo today and not Genji himself. Not that he wasn’t feeling strangely grateful for that fact now, for reasons he wasn’t keen to examine yet.

“Yes, you are right, of course. But though we may both want to move on, how do we do so? On what basis? This is what I cannot figure out. I am… more at peace than I was. But as Master Zenyatta says, peace is not always the same as growth.”

Jesse shrugs, it seems pretty simple to him. “You try, is all. Talk about yourselves, I guess? There’s really no knowing what will happen until you do, right? Overthinking things now isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

Genji huffs in laughter. “It really is that simple, is it not? Ah, but you are a good friend, Jesse. Thank you for speaking so frankly, as always.”

Jesse flushes. “Ah, well! I’m just a simple guy doing my simple best, you know?”

Genji’s laughter is more genuine this time.

“Will you tell me about him?” asks Jesse. “You’ve never really told me the two of you growing up, just, you know… what came later.”

So Genji tells him. As children of a wealthy and powerful family and trained in subterfuge from a young age, the two had had ample opportunity for mischief. Genji regales him with one story in particular, wherein a ten-year-old Genji and thirteen-year-old Hanzo had snuck away one of the family’s highly guarded heirlooms, an ancient pair of samurai swords. Their father had been _furious_ , especially when he found his two sons mock dueling with the priceless items.

That year had also been a turning point, however, Genji also explains. Hanzo had handled the worse of the fall out with their father from that incident, refusing to speak of whatever punishment their father had doled out for him. Not much later had come Hanzo’s fourteenth birthday, which marked the beginning of his advanced training as future clan leader. Genji, in a way, had been cast to the side as their father poured all of his energy into Hanzo.

It had changed them both. Hanzo submitted to the attention partly in order to protect Genji from the harshness of clan life, Genji knew, but this hadn’t stopped the younger Shimada from feeling resentful at the lack of attention. As their teen years passed Genji was less and less successful in dragging Hanzo out of his responsibilities in favor of brotherly antics, while Hanzo oscillated between offering extreme protectiveness and scorn in the face of Genji’s increasingly outrageous behavior. By the time both were into their twenties, Genji often saw his brother as no better or different than their father and had retreated into his partying and “playboy” lifestyle, to which their father had turned a mostly blind eye.

“As you would say, it was ‘a real shame,’ concludes Genji. “We could have been united, perhaps we could have even left the clan together! But I cannot pretend that it was only my brother’s decisions that brought us to disaster. In either case, I am no longer angry at him. Despite all the pain his actions – my path – has brought me here, with greater purpose and another family. Things I never imagined were possible. My brother too has changed his path, and broke free from our family, which I never would have imagined either. It was his defiance that made dismantling the syndicate even a possibility.”

“My only hope now,” Genji muses, “is that he too can find happiness in this world. I truly believe he deserves it.”

***

Hanzo has had little time to rest before Jesse McCree knocks – loudly – on the door of his new living space. Taking a final deep breath, he finds his feet, stretches languidly, and figures there is no point in putting off the inevitable.

Donning some light footwear, he fixes a mild expression to his face and opens the door. McCree does not look at him directly at first, seeming lost in thought. But as he steps back and fixes his gaze to Hanzo, that gaze continues to travel… very low. About as low as Jesse’s jaw now hangs.

When Hanzo has arrived earlier that day he had been bundled in an expensive looking wool coat – bundled isn’t even the right word, because Jesse would have said that Hanzo cut quite the figure then. Now, however, Hanzo has donned something athletic, utterly skintight, and also a little sheer, mapping each and every contour of his shoulders and chest up to the point where, mercifully, loose trousers took over. It has Jesse struggling to find his wits.

“Will we be standing here forever?” asks Hanzo flatly, secretly a little amused.

“Uh, yeah, right – dinner! We should go…?” Jesse’s brain is slow to reboot.

Hanzo snorts. “One moment.”

He disappears into the room, giving Jesse a few precious moments to reconstruct his normal demeanor (which is very suave, he swears!). When Hanzo re-emerges, he has added to his ensemble. A light wrap-style top now partially blocks his tightly clad upper body from close scrutiny, although it has only a single sleeve and cuts very low on his chest.

Jesse clears his throat and gestures down the hallway. “Shall we then?”

Thankfully, the interaction has at least knocked Jesse’s heavier thoughts straight out of mind. Instead, he describes the basic layout of the base as they head out of the dorm sector. The basic dorms are all contained in a few hallways in one of the first underground levels of the base, he explains, with commanders’ quarters located on the floor below. On their same floor are a few rec rooms, a small gym, and a cafeteria. The ground floor above them only really contains the hangar, ready rooms for mission prep, and some lounge space for on call operatives. A tactical simulation room, their med bay, and some laboratories are located somewhere deeper in the base, but all in all, it not a too large a compound. Originally, it existed primarily as a communications center and launch point for orbital satellites. Gibraltar was never intended as a headquarters, but it serves their small group well for the time being, claims Jesse.

Soon enough Jesse is pushing over a double pair of doors into a plain, industrial setting, broken up by a few rows of bench tables. Five others are seated there currently, all of them younger or new members of the organization. Hanzo recognizes “Tracer” and, from Jesse’s earlier descriptions, she’s likely seated with Lucio Correia dos Santos and Hana Song, codename D.Va. One other Hanzo doesn’t recognize is also seated with them.

At Jesse and Hanzo’s approach the all look up curiously, but without any recognition, or the wariness that Hanzo had been expecting.

“I see all the trouble-makers are out in force tonight,” Jesse greets them cheerfully. “Can I trust you all to introduce yourself to our guest? This here is Hanzo.” It’s little in the way of introductions, but Jesse figures Hanzo will handle the rest. He gestures the other man to a seat, before heading to the kitchen to fetch them both meals. He doesn’t bother asking what Hanzo wants; meal options are a luxury not yet available at Watchpoint: Gibraltar.

“Hello Hanzo,” chirps one of the group. “Is that a Japanese name? Japan has some of the loveliest climates!”

It’s an odd and rather forward question, but easy answered as Hanzo takes a seat. “Indeed. Although I myself have not been to Japan very often in this decade, so I will have to assume that you are still correct.” But the Sakura flowers in Hanamura had been as beautiful as always during Hanzo’s recent… visit.

“And yourself?” he deflects.

“I’m Mei-Ling Zhou,” she laughs, “Chinese. And I’ve spent most of this decade sleeping, so I really can’t judge I suppose!”

Another odd comment, which Hana and Lucia seem to find exceptionally amusing, but which Hanzo will have to think on later. The others are chiming in with rapid introductions, and equally as rapid of questions. What he a former member of Overwatch? Had they heard of him before? How did he learn about the recall? What were his skills, what could he do? Hanzo sighs internally. These were precisely the kinds of questions he would have liked to avoid in his first 24 hours at the base.

“I am here at the request of Genji, who is my brother. I am skilled in martial arts. You would not have heard of me, as I have never been a member of Overwatch. I am here to assist my brother for the time-being.”

Hopefully that is enough to satisfy and bore this group.

“Will you be training with us then?” This comes excitedly from the Korean pilot, as Jesse takes his own seat next to Hanzo. “Winston says we will begin running field simulations soon to prepare for Overwatch missions. I’m experienced running my MEKA in battle, but only against the Gwishin omnic attacks on Busan, and with other MEKA pilots. I think I have a lot to learn.”

Lucio snorts. “ _You_ have a lot to learn? You better believe Rio taught me a lot, but not how to—”

Hanzo is distracted from the chatter in his contemplation of the strange colored… mush? that Jesse had brought back. What _is_ that? He gives Jesse a dubious look, his first time acting anything but polite. Jesse only grins.

“Aw, loves!” Tracer chimes in, “you both are already so talented! I’m sure we’ll be working together smoothly in no time at all.” She turns to Hanzo, a considering look on her face.

 _“_ But _would_ you consider training with us, Hanzo? Genji says you’re a top-notch fighter, and an excellent strategist in the field. Genji didn’t say exactly what you’d be up to here, but if you aren’t booked already, would you consider it?”

Hanzo is hardly ‘booked’ but hadn’t planned on becoming involved in Overwatch so quickly – or even at all. It had taken several painful bouts of guilt and burning curiosity to bring him here, a few months after Genji had revealed himself at Hanamura castle, and with no real plan for his time other than to discover what life Genji had been living out of his older brother’s sights.

“Well now, I think that’s a great idea, don’t you Hanzo?” Jesse interjects before Hanzo can respond. “How about I show you our training rooms after dinner? You can also bring that fine bow of yours down and show off – how about it? I’m dying to see how it measures to my Peacekeeper.” Jesse usually finds that some combination of flattery and challenge are good motivators with other dominants, plus he genuinely wants to size up both of their shooting skills. That bow Hanzo arrived with looked like nothing Jesse had ever seen.

Hanzo eyes narrow briefly, seeming to signal that he fully aware of what Jesse is attempting. Oh well, ‘subtle’ was low on the list of descriptors used for Jesse McCree.

Despite his annoyance at the ploy and reluctance to be so directly involved in Overwatch members so quickly, Hanzo finds himself considering the invitations. He had wanted to do his own ‘sizing up’ of the organization, and what better way than in training combat? And he is increasingly curious if his sense of Jesse’s hidden but deadly skills is accurate.

“I will consider it,” he concedes, “and you may show me these training rooms as soon as this… meal… is finished.”

Lucio and Hana high-five with a cheer. Mei begins an animated monologue about what she thinks combat would be like in Gibraltar atmospheric conditions and weather patterns. Tracer chimes in with entirely too many “cheers to that, loves!” and Jesse perfects his shit-eating grins.

Hanzo feels a headache coming on already.

***

By the time Jesse leads Hanzo back to his room to grab his bow, and down a level to the training zone, Hanzo is all too ready to let lose. How does Genji spend so much time with this group? Speaking of -

“Will Genji be joining us this evening?” Hanzo asks with forced casualness.

Jesse winces internally, keenly feeling the awkwardness of Genji’s avoidance thus far. What exactly was Genji up to leaving Hanzo to _him_?

“Ah, well, I think Genji wanted to let you settle in ‘for checkin’ in.” Jesse rumbles, apologetic. “Hope I’ve been a decent host in the meanwhile,” he adds.

Hanzo sniffs. “We shall see. That may depend on your shooting skills. Does this base have a shooting range?”

Jesse grins, all to glad to take up this other subject.

“Even better. There’s a small range for regular target shooting, as well as a sparing room, but the real beauty of Overwatch facilities is the simulated training. Let me show you.”

Jesse leads them to an enormous room, similar to an open gymnasium floor except for its size and more ovular shape. It spans at least a couple hundred meters from one end to the next and is at least half as tall. It is otherwise nondescript, however. Hanzo shoots Jesse an unimpressed look. Now what?

“Athena!” calls out Jesse, “load up the Watchpoint: Gibraltar sim, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I don’t mind at all Jesse.” A new voice rings out, musical in quality and seeming to emerge from every point of the room.

Hanzo looks around curiously at the response. Unseen speakers throughout the room, then? And video cameras too? His eyes widen slightly as he catches the terrain of the room begin to move about – panels rapidly shift and slide open, allowing for new fixtures to rise or descend into the room, as the floor _flexes_ and takes on new shapes. With several ripples, the new architecture of the room bursts with color.

And now appears very similar to the out-door hangar area Hanzo’s transport had flown through earlier in the day. A paved road extends from their feet, curving around a communications tower, orbital launch pad, and a pair of auxiliary buildings. The scene extends in every direction Hanzo can see, although logically he knows that that he has not left the base interior. When he checks behind himself, he can still see through the doorway to the simulation room and into the hallway beyond.

“It’s a mix of mechanics, nano-tech, and holograms,” explains Jesse. “The buildings and things you see are really there – the room can bring up walls and other basic infrastructure while the nano-tech reshapes it to more closely match the simulated terrain. But it’s the holograms that make them look realistic, and makes it seem like the space is larger than it is. The sim design should stop you from running into the edges of the room,” he points to road-block situated across the road further ahead, “and the holograms will flash you a warning if you’re about to run into a wall.” Jesse further explains that the simulations are constructed by Athena, an AI system built into the base, which Hanzo mentally files away with his list of information to consider later.

Jesse takes a fierce delight in having thrown Hanzo off his game, even a little bit. The shorter man is still surveying the simulated terrain, eyes growing somewhat distant and possibly even glazed over. In contrast, Jesse feels his vision tunneling, as he unconsciously draws on that inner space unique to dominants. He could help it if he wanted to, but he just doesn’t want to. He expects Hanzo will be putting him through his paces and wants to make an _excellent_ showing –tapping into domspace gives him that edge, the ability to see everything and miss nothing so long as it’s at the center of his crosshairs.

While Jesse gears up, Hanzo begins to relax. Subspace doesn’t bring the razor-sharp clarity that he’s heard doms experience, but as a strategist Hanzo doesn’t need every detail, just the ones that matter. A touch of subspace drains away anxiety, fear, and all things that cloud true discernment. Hanzo knows how to dance along its edge, pulling a veil of calm over himself until his mind can stretch further and his body move without truly thinking. Like this, he sees the whole terrain without dwelling on any one feature, interpreting only what stimuli are needed to inform his next move.

When Jesse calls for Athena to release target drones into the simulation, it’s a virtual bloodbath.

At the end of it, both are back at their starting positions and breathing hard, but Jesse in particular finds it difficult to catch his breath. Not only is Hanzo obviously and incredibly skilled, but his every movement had been so _graceful_ as well as efficient, all utter competence and zero hesitation with allure to boot. Jesse can feel himself being drawn in relentlessly, can feel his every sense continue to home in – but on Hanzo. Hanzo’s gaze is positively serene in comparison, and Jesse just wants to reach out and-

and Hanzo turns to him, at ease like he hasn’t been for a single second since stepping foot in Gibraltar, and he _smiles_ -

And it’s then that Jesse is taken by a familiar feeling, not for the first time, that he’s in _far_ over his head.

 _Lord have mercy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, constructive feedback greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I've been a reader for a long time and have lots of stories in the works, but this is my first time posting anything. Please comment if you enjoy, and thanks in advance for any support. There's five chapters in the works already, and it may get longer. Encouragement helps!
> 
> Next chapter - Jesse insists on getting to know Hanzo. No one has really known Hanzo - ever. He doesn't see why he should let Jesse be the first. Besides, Hanzo is busy figuring out why he's even here in the first place.


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